


The Eggnog Incident

by RoseByAnyOtherName (badxwolfxrising)



Series: 50 Prompt Challenge [1]
Category: Broadchurch, Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 50 prompt challenge, Eggnog, F/M, Opposites, Teninch Fic, Timepetalsprompts, ficlet Friday, holiday fic bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggnog: you either love it or hate it.  Alec Hardy hates it, and his wife wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eggnog Incident

**Author's Note:**

> Written for timepetalsprompts Holiday Fic Bingo and Ficlet Friday, and my own 50 Prompt Challenge, prompts eggnog and opposites. Takes place in the same 'verse as all my other Broadchurch fic, figure a couple of years after the events of A Change is As Good As A Rest and Lullabye.

“What the hell is _this_?” Alec Hardy asked with disgust, holding up a festive red and green carton that he’d plucked out of a grocery bag.

Rose looked over her shoulder to see what he was holding up. “It’s eggnog. Wait, sorry, holiday nog.”

“ _Holiday nog_?” 

“It’s eggnog with a lower percentage of butterfat and egg yolk. Figured it’d be better than regular eggnog, what with your heart and all,” she said, continuing to load dry goods into the pantry cabinet.

“I know what it is, woman, what I want to know is why you brought the devil’s dairy beverage into our house?”

“The devil’s dairy beverage?” she snickered. “I think you’re being a bit melodramatic, dear.”

“Eggnog is bad enough, but mass produced, store bought, _low-fat_ eggnog? This is an abomination,” he declared.

“Fine then, don’t drink it. More for me,” she said, plucking the carton from his hands and placing it in the refrigerator. “What’ve you got against eggnog, anyway?”

He shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “I just don’t like it.”

“Not even boozy eggnog?” she questioned, the skepticism written plainly on her face.

“ _Especially not_ boozy eggnog,” he answered, sticking his tongue out in distaste. “Who the hell in their right mind would mix raw eggs and alcohol anyway?”

Rose chuckled. “Two kinds of people in the world, can’t believe I married a nog hater. Opposites attract, I suppose. And for your information, the holiday nog is pasteurized and non-alcoholic. Nothing ruins the Christmas spirit like an outbreak of salmonella poisoning.”

“Tempting, but still a no,” he replied adamantly.

“Suit yourself. You going to at least tell me why you have this passionate hatred for eggnog?” she asked teasingly.

He grimaced. “Do I have to? It’s embarrassing.”

“More embarrassing than being known as the Worst Cop in Britain?”

“ _Former_ Worst Cop in Britain. And yes, it’s pretty bloody embarrassing.”

“Well now you have to tell me,” she said, tongue poking between her teeth. “No secrets between lovers, Mr. Hardy.”

Alec sighed. “I will tell you, but on one condition.”

“Fair enough. Name it.”

“You repeat this story to _no one_ , including Miller. Especially Miller. Got it?” he implored.

“That bad, huh?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Promise me you’ll tell no one.”

“I promise I’ll tell no one,” she repeated with exaggerated solemnity.

He took a deep breath, exhaled heavily, and cleared his throat before he began speaking. “When I was six years old my parents hosted Christmas dinner for my family. Everybody came. All my aunts and uncles, all my cousins, both sets of grandparents, you name it, they were there. And we’re Scottish, so of course there was spiked eggnog. They had regular, non-alcoholic eggnog for the kids, but I was intent on having the grown-up stuff, so I waited until no one was looking and I took a cup.”

Rose shook her head. “Naughty boy. Why am I not surprised?”

“Yes well, one cup turned into two. Two turned into three. You can see where I’m going with this, I’m sure,” he said.

“You got drunk off your six year old arse, didn’t you?” she laughed.

“Completely and totally. And being six, I just couldn’t handle it, y’know?”

“So what happened?”

“I realized I was in over my head, that I’d made a grave mistake, but I was too afraid to say anything. So when I started feeling sick, I just tried to ignore it. I didn’t want to get in trouble,” he confessed.

Rose cringed. “I think I know where this is going.”

“So there we are, everyone gathered around the table, heads bowed for the Christmas dinner prayer, and I feel my stomach doing flip flops. I managed to wait until the prayer was over to try and excuse myself to the loo, but the minute I opened my mouth to speak…”

“Oh God, you didn’t!” she exclaimed.

“Oh yes, I did. Sicked eggnog everywhere,” he said with chagrin. “All over the roast turkey and potatoes, and several of my relatives as well. I ruined Christmas dinner. I don’t know who was more mortified, me or my parents. It lives on in infamy, though. The Great Eggnog Incident of ‘82. I’m surprised no one told you this story at our wedding, honestly. It’s a family favorite.”

Rose covered her mouth with her hand and tried to suppress what might have been a giggle or a groan of disgust. “Oh Alec, that’s terrible. No wonder you hate eggnog. You poor thing.”

“Yeah, so now you know. Haven’t had eggnog in more than thirty years, just the thought of it makes me mildly nauseous, actually,” he admitted.

“I’ll pawn it off on Ellie,” she promised.

“Yeah, you do that. Just don’t, y’know, tell her why,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Tea?” she offered, conciliatory.

He smiled. “Now that’s a bit more like it.”


End file.
